Erised Terces
by Bianca tabbycat
Summary: The year 2009. The Mirror of Erised. Harry's own curiosity. Dumbledore's cryptic words all those years ago. Mix all these in a Standard Size 2 Cauldron and the result would be a deep, meaningful tale. Oops; accidentally tipped in a bucketful of humor!


**Erised Terces**

_Disclaimer: The clock on the mantelpiece could tick till the end of time, but even then, the wonderful world of Harry Potter still wouldn't belong to me._

_Summary: The year 2009. The Mirror of Erised. Harry's own curiosity. Dumbledore's cryptic words all those years ago. Mix all these in a Standard Size 2 Cauldron and the result would be a deep, meaningful tale. Oops; accidentally tipped in a bucketful of humor!_

_Dedicated once again to my sister/best friend, **Zoe tabbycat**; no matter how you slice it, she's still my number 1 helper in looking over my fics! So… Here's your medal! Now, where did I put the certificate again?_

_*Erised Terces*_

"Kingsley!" The sound of Harry's hurried footsteps rebounded off the walls, increasing in tempo until he was almost at a full sprint. "Kingsley! For Merlin's sake, slow down!" Harry shouted once again, and the Minister of Magic finally turned around, an amused smile hovering on his lips as he watched the flustered Head Auror strode towards him, face flushed from the physical exertion. As soon as Harry caught up, Kingsley resumed his 'stroll' down the corridor.

"Goodness me, Potter, what is _wrong_ with you? Surely you, as Head of the Auror Department, are capable of overtaking an old man like me?" Kingsley joked, finally surrendering to the smirk that now tugged at the corners of his mouth. Harry shot a dirty look at him before raising an eyebrow.

"If I am not mistaken, Mr. Shacklebolt," Harry mocked the formal title playfully, "the reason I am not capable of overtaking an old man like you is because of those rather… _fashionable_ Hermes' Heels you're wearing."

With a slight chuckle, Kingsley glanced down at his bright gold shoes, which were, contrary to their name, not high heels, but sneakers. Adorned with fluttering white wings at the sides, the shoes were the very definition of 'eye-catching', and had been a proud invention from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. "Guilty as charged," Kingsley confessed good-naturedly. "Your friend Ronald spotted me gaping through the shop window and offered me a free pair, seeing as I was the Minister and all. Nice of him, isn't it? He said the charm was permanent, and so I placed some orders for the Ministry in advance. Soon all of the Aurors would own a pair."

Harry paled instantly at the thought of wearing the garish trainers. Ginny and the kids would make fun of him for hours on end, if not days.

"Anyway, Kingsley," Harry cleared his throat forcefully to get rid of the unpleasant image. "I was wondering about the Griffith case that my team is working on. You know, the top-priority one?" Kingsley gave a quick nod. "Anyway, we're pretty sure we found the perp, and… well, we need your signature on his warrant." Harry whipped a rather crumpled sheet of parchment from his robe pocket. With a tap of his wand, the parchment returned to its former state, and was handed to Kingsley.

A deep frown creased Kingsley's face. "Harry, last time I checked, you have the authority to issue warrants. Am I correct?"

"Yes, well…" Harry shifted uncomfortably. "This arrest is different. It's Antonio Ledbury."

"Ledbury?" Kingsley stiffened at the name. "The Supreme Mugwump's _son_?"

"Yes, sir," Harry winced at the possible political problems the arrest might cause had he been wrong. The outcomes in those scenarios were not pretty; in the worst case, Kingsley could be fired for the mistake. "Antonio Ledbury."

"Good Godric!" The Minister stared off into space, leaving Harry unbearably anxious. He resisted the urge to jump in front of Kingsley and make stupid faces just to see his response. Funnily enough, he used to do that with Lily to cheer her up after her tantrums.

Just as Harry was debating whether he was slightly mad or not (wasn't the fact that he was talking to himself proof of that?), Kingsley snapped out of his trance and grabbed a quill, signing his name at the bottom of the warrant. With a sigh, he clapped a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Son," he whispered, "Don't let me down."

Harry gulped. "I won't, sir."

And he was off, the sound of his footfalls bouncing off the walls again, adrenaline surging in his bloodstream –

"Harry! You've forgotten the warrant!"

"_Damn."_

_*Erised Terces*_

The door creaked open.

Harry whipped around at the unexpected noise, wand held at the ready as he scanned his surroundings for anything that was out of place. Nothing, apart from the ancient wooden door that now stood ajar.

Eyeing it suspiciously, he edged closer to the gap between the door and its frame. Cautiously, he gave it a gentle push, expecting it to swing open and reveal Antonio Ledbury, shivering like the coward he was… Only to find that the door refused to budge.

"_Come on!"_ Harry wrestled with the doorknob, which was so rusty it must have been there for hundreds of years. Despite his best efforts, the door remained as stubborn as ever, leaving him to contemplate the unthinkable – kicking it open with his foot, both of which had been injured severely in an incident with a rubber duck, a tree fern, and an unfortunate mouse. Oh, and the coffee table had shattered into tiny glass shards, too. He had just regained the use of his legs a week ago. But then again, what was he going to tell Kingsley if he failed? _"I'm sorry I couldn't capture Ledbury, but it turns out I'm no match for a door that surely must date back to Merlin." _Yeah, right; that was going to be a fun conversation.

Bracing himself against the blinding pain that was sure to shoot up his leg any minute, Harry raised his foot – _"Are you a wizard or what?" _a small voice inside his head piped up indignantly (further proof of his madness). Groaning at his own stupidity, Harry quickly blasted his way into the small, confined room.

There was no Antonio Ledbury. There was, however, an old friend ready to greet him.

The Mirror of Erised.

Mesmerized by the mirror's unexpected reappearance, Harry took an unconscious step towards the magical artifact. The dull golden frame was now marred with more scratches than Harry remembered, and the glass was covered by a thick layer of dust from disuse. The famed inscription, _"Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi"_, however, still shone brightly as it caught the sunlight shining through the doorway.

Wiping the grime away with the sleeve of his robe, Harry turned to stare once again into the murky depths of the mirror. As soon as his emerald-green eyes met the reflective surface, the mist that had seemed to swirl beneath the cool glass vanished without a trace. All at once, the only thing visible in the mirror was Harry himself.

Breathless, he moistened his lips nervously as he waited for his deepest and most desperate desire to materialize in the glass. After a few tense seconds, in which nothing changed, Harry squinted more closely at his reflection. _"Maybe… this isn't the Mirror of Erised?" _He glanced at the inscription at the top, reading it backwards: _I show not your face but your heart's desire._

"_Nope… Definitely the right one. So what's wrong?"_ Getting more frustrated by the second, Harry tried everything he could – pleading, threatening, searching for a hidden switch, enchanting his shoes to hammer repeatedly on the glass... Even reading the inscription in Pig Latin – backwards. Nothing worked.

"_Come on, Harry, think! There's got to be something. Maybe Dumbledore enchanted it again? Wait – Dumbledore! What did he say about the mirror?" _Harry racked his brains for the words of the former Headmaster. Memories from his first year began flashing through his mind at random – memories of earwax-flavoured jelly beans, trolls in the girl's bathroom, his very first broom… And eventually, his moonlight visits to see his parents.

Dumbledore's voice echoed from the chasms of his mind: _"The happiest man on earth would look into the mirror and see only himself, exactly how he is."_

Harry peered into the mirror once more, just to make sure. Reflection Harry did exactly the same thing. _"But it couldn't be! Or could it?" _He lingered in front of the glass, staring in disbelief. _"If nothing changed in the reflection, then… I am the happiest man on earth."_

He gave a rather dazed chuckle as he took in the news. Giddy from the excitement, Harry suddenly found the idea of doing a jig right there and then very tempting.

And that is why Antonio Ledbury, emerging from the trapdoor which led to the Leady Cauldron, found the Head Auror capering around the small room with a manic grin that the Cheshire Cat would have been proud of.

_*Erised Terces*_

Harry was pleased to inform that Ledbury had no recollection of what happened in the small room whatsoever, thanks to the handy Memory Charm that Lockhart had introduced to him in his second year. After all, it wasn't like _that _memory would matter in Ledbury's trial; that is, unless it was used as blackmail material against Harry. Fortunately, the threat had been eliminated; being Head of the Aurors has its perks.

Satisfied and still on the high that came with being the happiest man on earth, Harry practically skipped to his office, whistling Rhythm Rune's newest song – Slow Me Down – as he went. He remained blissfully unaware of his colleagues' strange stares and hushed whispers about his bizarre behaviour.

Harry's good mood lasted the rest of the day, only broken when a shoebox embossed with a familiar logo appeared on his desk. In glossy gold letters were the words: _WEASLEY'S WIZARD WHEEZES – HERMES' HEELS! SHOCK YOUR FRIENDS WITH YOUR ASTIONISHING SPEED!_

The look on Harry's face, his secretary later gossiped, was priceless.

_*Finite*_

* * *

_A/N: Well? Did the potion work? Wait a minute… I didn't even tell you what the potion was for! What was I thinking? –facepalm-_

_Anyway, this potion is called "Erised Terces", a.k.a. Secret Desire. It was originally supposed to be "Deep Desire" spelt backwards, but it turns out… Well, let's not talk about that; it's not included in the elements of a well-mannered conversation. _

_On with the potion. Its effects are similar to those of the Imperius Curse! That's it, you heard right – the Imperius Curse. It forces readers to read, favourite, and review! –evil laugh- I'm so clever that even I'm surprised by my own intelligence. Shame that doesn't apply to school subjects like Maths – the bane of my existence. :(_

_Alright, people… READ, FAVOURITE, AND REVIEW 'CAUSE YOU CAN'T HELP IT! :) Okay, so maybe I'm slightly hyper from posting a new story… But don't worry about it. It'll past._

_Cheers,_

_Bianca tabbycat :]_


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